At the end of
that time he shouted to his prisoners to come down and enter the
Mission.
Roldan and Adan had been exchanging bitter condolences over the
humiliating change in the warlike programme, but the raw air of the
morning had chilled their enthusiasm, and Roldan, moreover, began to
feel reaction from the shock to his nerves. It was not every day that a
boy sailed down through forty feet of space and lit on his feet, and his
nerves were out of tune.
When Anastacio called, he went with the rest, but lagged behind. The
door of the Mission sala was open. The priests entered first, their
heads scornfully erect; then the brethren, the soldiers, and servants.
As Roldan and Adan were about to enter, the door was suddenly pulled to,
coarse hands were clapped over their mouths, and, kicking, struggling,
biting, scratching, they were borne swiftly across the courtyard and out
of the gates. There they were set on their feet, and found themselves
face to face with Anastacio.
"Don't yell," he said. "There is no one to come to the rescue. We shall
not hurt you unless you try to run away. Then I myself will beat you.
Get on that horse, both of you.
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